


and it's a long way forward (so trust in me)

by orphan_account



Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF
Genre: Christmas, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 19:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9138292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Porter decides to visit Nantes over the holidays.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is for [fawn--queen](http://fawn--queen.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr! Happy Holidays!
> 
> Huge thanks to my wonderful beta— you know who you are. ;)
> 
> Translations for the French are at the end.

Porter bounced up and down on the soles of his feet as he waited in line to deplane, his large black duffel bag swung over one shoulder. It felt good to be standing after the long flight over the Atlantic, but Porter’s mind wandered.

Hugo’s grin illuminated the room when Porter stepped into the terminal. “Porter!”

“Hugo!”

Porter dropped his duffle so he could pull his taller friend down for a hug. It was a little long as far as hugs go and travelers were beginning to stare, but neither released the other.

“Tu m’as manqué,” Hugo whispered into Porter’s hair, his breath sending strands of it flying every which way. He rested there for another moment before pulling back regretfully and lifting Porter’s bag from the tile floor. “Come on, let’s get you some food. Airplane food is atrocious.” Hugo entwined their fingers, and they walked through the airport together.

“Thanks for coming to get me, Hugo,” Porter murmured. “I know it’s late, and it’s Christmas Eve, too.” Hugo turned his head to look at him, his eyebrow raised.

Hugo sighed and returned to navigating through the crowd of people congregated at baggage claim. “Porter, it’s fine. I probably wouldn’t be asleep even if I were at home right now.” Porter located his bag on the carousel and pulled it off. “New Daft Punk on the way home?”

Porter blinked before he broke out into a wide smile. Hugo obviously hadn’t meant anything by it, and it was his home after all, so he was completely overthinking it. “Sure!” They walked out of the airport and headed across the street towards the parking garage, their palms still pressed together. “It’s only been thirteen days since Seattle,” Porter said quietly, “but it feels like an eternity.” Hugo hummed in agreement as he unlocked the car. “How are we going to go back to touring by ourselves after Europe?”

“Je ne sais pas, Port” Hugo agreed, shortening Porter’s name as he tended to do on stage. “Guess we’d better make the most of the time we get. Also, I can always try and find an excuse to come over to North Carolina at some point.” Porter grinned and nodded, purposefully ignoring how his stomach fluttered at the idea.

“That sounds like a fantastic idea. Maybe next Christmas?”

“I’ll make sure to clear my calendar, then.”

Porter stole Hugo’s phone to locate the song while the other man started up the sedan, and soon comfortingly familiar tones filled the car while the two friends drove West.

~~~~~

“Here,” Hugo held out a freshly made sandwich to Porter, who accepted it gratefully.

His schedule had been booked full with meetings about the upcoming tours and the new album, and he hadn’t had nearly enough food recently, he realized.

“I tried to save you some of the leftovers from dinner, but they got put in the freezer and you look like you’re about to fall over, so I didn’t want to take the time to put them back on the stove.” Hugo pulled up a chair next to him and sat down with a yogurt in hand.

“I am not about to fall over,” Porter sputtered indignantly, shooting his friend a glare. Hugo shrugged and dug into his yogurt.

“Arrête de dire des conneries! You are barely still awake.” Hugo’s forehead creased and he looked up from his yogurt. Porter who had begun to sink down in his chair, hastily straightened. “Porter,” he started, “how long has it been since you last slept?” Porter briefly debated on whether it would be better to lie to him to make him feel better, but came to the conclusion that Hugo knew him well enough to tell when he was lying. “Eight days,” he finally whispered, so softly that he wondered if Hugo had been able to hear.

“Eight days?” Hugo ran a hand through his hair, visibly distressed. “You’ve lived off of caffeine for eight days?”

“No, I’ve lived off coffee and satsumas for the last eight days. Oh, actually, there were a couple of bubble teas, too.” Porter laughed, trying to be casual, but his attempt fell flat.

“You’ve gotten no sleep and you’ve been eating only oranges? Merde, Porter!”

“I didn’t have time, and it wasn’t important enough to make time.”

Hugo stood, his hands clenching into fists. Porter winced, unable to meet his eyes— this was it. After ten years, the end had finally come. Forget the upcoming leg of the tour, Hugo was angry and they were going to stop being friends and he was never going to see him ever again—

And then Hugo kissed him.

Porter startled, and Hugo pulled back. “Je suis très desolé, Porter; I’m so sorry, I didn’t —“ Porter grabbed onto the ever-present leather jacket and pulled the stammering Frenchman back in, abruptly cutting off any further apologies.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Porter told him when they broke apart for air.

“Bon,” Hugo started laughing, and Porter couldn’t help but follow suit.

“Hugo, why are we laughing?”

“Je ne sais pourquoi!” Even with his limited knowledge of French, Porter could still figure out that Hugo had no idea why they were laughing either. Hugo took a few breaths to pull himself back together before speaking, and dread doused Porter with cold water. “Porter,” Hugo began, and Porter already knew how this was going to end. Hugo was going to apologize, and they were going to go back to being friends instead of whatever the heck they’d become and it was going to be awkward and they wouldn’t be able to fix their friendship completely and things weren’t going to be the same between them ever again— “Porter? Are you alright?” Porter couldn’t speak, couldn’t get the words out, knew that there was nothing he could do to fix this, nothing he could do to fix himself.

“That’s not true, Porter,” Hugo’s voice cracked in the middle of his name, making it sound more like the shortened version, and Porter realized that even though he’d thought he couldn’t speak, he’d said the last part out loud. And shit, now he was crying, too. Hugo reached out and wrapped Porter in his arms. “Ce n’est pas vrai, pas pour un moment” Porter buried his face in the side of Hugo’s neck, soaking the white fabric of his t-shirt. “Ssh, Porter, you’re alright. I’m not going anywhere. Tu es avec moi, nous serons des amis toujours, et peut-être plus s’il te plait.” Porter focused on Hugo’s voice, on the way the foreign language rolled smoothly off of his tongue and on the way his tone remained soft and soothing, and eventually Porter’s sobs faded. “There you go, Port.” Porter smiled against Hugo’s neck, happy with how pleased Hugo sounded.

As his fear dissolved, though, his exhaustion returned, and Porter had little warning before he tipped forward and he pitched his weight onto Hugo with a sharp gasp. Hugo stumbled back a step, caught at unawares, but managed to hold his friend up. “Tu dois rester, Porter!” He exclaimed, trying to rearrange his hold on Porter to keep him from falling out of the chair and onto the tile floor. Although Porter couldn’t understand the exact meaning of what Hugo said, he had a feeling that it involved him needing to sleep— he couldn’t imagine it being anything else. “Let’s get to bed,” Hugo told him, having finally figured out how to hold Porter without risking injury. It took a moment for his words to sink in, but once they did, Porter raised his head so quickly Hugo had to jerk his chin backwards to avoid getting uppercut.

“We’re sleeping together?”

“Oui, certainement! I was originally planning to put you in the guest room, but I want to make sure you actually sleep, so it makes sense.”

“Hunh,” Porter huffed as he considered Hugo’s rationale, and his bangs fluttered in the faint breeze. Hugo prepared to lift Porter, assuming that him attempting to walk would only end in disaster. “Wait.” Hugo pulled back, trying to figure out what he’d done. “Hugo, are we sleeping together or are we sleeping together?”

Hugo laughed, but it was not a mocking sound. Porter’s sleep-addled brain thought he had never heard such a beautiful sound, so he told Hugo so. Hugo did it again in response to the semi-coherent statement. “Well, you need rest, so tonight we’re just sleeping in the same bed, but tomorrow’s fair game.” Hugo finished the statement with a wink before using Porter’s obvious distraction to pick him up.

“Hugo, put me down!”

“Non.”

“Hugo, I’m serious!”

“Oui, so am I.”

“Then you’d better give me a goodnight kiss later.”

Hugo was more than happy to oblige.

~~~

Porter woke in stages; the first thing he noticed was that thick golden light was spilling from open curtains, the second was that something smelled absolutely delicious, and the third was that he was most definitely not in his bedroom at home. He sat up fast enough to make his head spin, but when he saw a note scrawled in Hugo’s somewhat messy handwriting, he let out the breath he had been holding.

“Salut Porter! I’m going to the store to pick up ingredients for breakfast. If I’m not back by the time you wake up, feel free to head downstairs to the kitchen and start the coffee. :) -- Hugo.”

Porter smiled and lifted the post-it from the back of the door. It’d been a few years since he’d visited the Leclercqs, but hopefully the general layout of the house would be similar to how he remembered it. Porter stepped out of Hugo’s room and looked around for the staircase, which was thankfully where he expected it to be. He followed the smell of bacon to the kitchen, where Hugo was whisking batter together, his glasses slipping down his nose.

“Morning,” Porter greeted as he stepped up next to Hugo.  
“Salut! Did you sleep well?” Hugo asked as Porter wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him in so they were pressed together.

“Yeah, better than I can remember for quite a while. Sleeping on the bus wasn’t always fun.” Hugo sighed, and Porter knew that that was something they were going to have to talk about at some point, but it wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have at the moment. “Are those crêpes?”

“Oui oui!” Hugo exclaimed, setting down the mixing bowl and picking up a small glass bowl to show the contents to Porter.

“Crêpes with chocolate?”

“Of course! Both are good by themselves, but when you combine them… Perfection!” Porter laughed, having to agree. “And bacon makes any breakfast heavenly, as you’ve shown me.” Hugo flipped the pieces in question to cook the other sides. They sizzled deliciously and Porter felt his mouth water.

“You’re too good, you know that?” Porter pushed Hugo’s glasses back into place from where they’d slipped. Hugo snorted at that, but he smiled anyways.

“Good? Moi?” Porter hummed, and Hugo’s mouth quirked. “You see, Porter, I’d say you’re the good one.” Hugo shifted away from Porter so he could set the bowl down, reaching out to grasp Porter’s chin with his free hand. “My perfect Porter.”

Porter shivered, and his cheeks stained pink. He prayed Hugo wouldn’t notice but knew deep down that he would. Hugo’s smirk grew wider, and he leaned in close enough that his lips brushed Porter’s ear: “My perfect Porter,” and fuck, if that wasn’t a purr, then Porter was completely deaf.

Hugo let him go and turned back to the crêpes, leaving Porter to pull himself together. “Port, mon chéri, could you grab three plates from the cabinet, s’il te plait? Assuming you can reach them, of course.”

Porter crossed his arms, glaring at Hugo, but still did as he asked. “Excuse you, I am not little.”

“That is still unproven,” Hugo retorted with a wink as he flipped one of the crêpes over. Porter was silent for a moment, so Hugo slid the crêpe onto the plate Porter handed him and began folding chunks of chocolate into it. When he finished, he pulled silverware out of one of the drawers and returned the plate to Porter.

“Thanks.”

“De rien.”

Porter cut off a piece of the crêpe and tried it. Melted chocolate flooded his mouth, and he made a slightly startled noise that quickly turned into an appreciative one. “Hugo, this is amazing!” Hugo grinned, happy his cooking was being enjoyed. “I didn’t know that mon chéri could cook like this!” Porter’s pronunciation was rather unfortunate, but Hugo’s smile brightened even further. He stood and pressed a kiss to the top of Porter’s head before going to put the bacon on one of the remaining plates.

“Bacon?” Hugo asked, extending the plate containing the food in question out to Porter. “It’s extra crispy, just for you.”

“Ooh, yes please! Thank you, this looks fantastic.” Porter moved a couple of pieces over to his plate and took one to eat right away. It was indeed crispy when he bit into it, and he was impressed that Hugo remembered how he liked his bacon. Hugo sat down next to him and slid Porter another crêpe before starting on his own.

“I was thinking that we could go to the coast today, if you want to,” Hugo suggested once they had finished the meal. “It’s only a twenty minute drive.”

“That sounds like it’d be fun! I’ve never been to the French coast before,” Porter smiled. Hugo smiled back at him and ruffled Porter’s hair.

“Then let’s go.” Hugo stood up and Porter recalled what happened when Hugo got up from that same chair last night. Porter stood, too, and got a hold on Hugo’s shoulders so he could spin him around for a kiss. 

“Merry Christmas, Hugo.”

“Joyeux Noël, Porter.”

 

1\. “I missed you”

2\. “I don’t know”

3\. “Stop bullshitting!”

4\. “I’m so, so sorry”

5\. “I don’t know why”

6\. “That isn’t true, not for a moment.”

7\. “You’re with me, we’ll always be friends, and maybe more if you want.”

8\. “You have to sleep, Porter!”

9\. “Yes, certainly!”

10\. “No problem.”

11\. “Merry Christmas, Porter.”


End file.
